Blue Jeans
by MadBitchWithABox
Summary: AU. Cas Novak prefers hitting the books, while Dean Winchester prefers hitting on chicks. Really, these two should never even cross paths. One night, all that changes and they meet at a frat party. Sure both guys leave alone and miserable, but later on, awkward circumstances keep throwing them back together again. Too bad they swore they wouldn't give into each other's "charms".


**A/N: **Hello all! I don't want to ramble on for long, but I just want to say I kind of love this story so far... AU's are seriously are like drugs to me, so I figured I'd give it a shot and write one. I was listening to Lana Del Rey's "Blue Jeans" when I started writing this and well, if you haven't heard it ever than there is something terribly wrong with you and should go fix that this instant. It's a brilliant song by a fabulous artist and pretty much my sole inspiration for this fic as of now. Anyway, I hope at least someone out there enjoys reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it...

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural or anything to do with it. Eric Kripke is a genius and should be worshipped like a god and thus, I would never steal his shit. Except I would definitely steal/kidnap J2M, because Kripke doesn't actually own them. Yay for loopholes.

**Now, happy reading! Don't be a bag of dicks, write a review afterwards!**

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The base thumped loudly through the speakers at the far end of the house, laughter and chatter amplified by the amount of liquor being consumed by a majority of the partygoers. People were crammed into every nook and cranny of the old frat house, the girls scantily clad regardless of the freezing December weather. Castiel Novak, however, stood off to the side, observing while sipping nervously at his drink. He **hated** parties. Not just because of the loud noise and over all chaos, but there were just _so_ many people. He pulled at his favorite cardigan self-consciously, trying to disappear into its comforting softness. Why on earth did he even let his brother, Gabriel, drag him to this stupid party in the first place? He could have been studying for his anatomy exam! It was in a couple of days for heaven's sake! But no, apparently according to his "dear" brother, he needed to "pull the stick out of his ass and let loose." Yeah, Castiel certainly felt much "looser" surrounded by hoards of drunken and horny underclassmen.

He scanned the room for the umpteenth time, searching for Gabriel and came up with nothing. How was he supposed to relax all alone in a crowd full of people he didn't know? Impossible! The only thing that would help Cas at this point was if he were to rip his brother's head off. He chuckled darkly at the thought. Had he have known that the minute he and his brother walked through the door that Gabe was going to desert him, he never would have came! "He's probably nailing some chick he talked to for like five seconds," Cas thought bitterly, judging his brother's exploits, "Typical."

Now, it's not like Cas was a prude or anything, sure he liked sex as much as the next guy, but he was just much less cavalier about it. To him, sex was not just a means to an end. He sighed, staring down into his red solo cup, and downing the last dregs of his drink. If he was going to endure this party, Cas definitely needed to be less sober.

Twenty minutes, three beers and a few shots later, Castiel was a _**very **_happy guy. The room now had that nice fuzzy glow to it; all movements seemed fluid, kind of like when you're underwater looking up at the sky above through the rippling surface. Cas smiled loopily, leaning against a wall for support, staring off into space. "Much better," he concluded, teetering towards his left and giggling at nothing, "Now if only..." Cas started, his thoughts abruptly interrupted as movement caught his eye across the room.

Castiel blinked, adjusting his glasses on his nose as he tried to focus in his semi-drunken state. There was some guy there in the doorway, scanning the sea of people with an almost practiced poise. There was something about him, but Cas couldn't put his finger on it. Finally, after staring for God knows how long, it clicked. Cas' mouth fell open and instantly went dry. This was not just some _guy_, oh no, this was DEAN FREAKIN' WINCHESTER. Campus' resident Impala driving, bad-boy, SEX GOD, and he was at the same party as Cas. The very same room. Cas couldn't decide whether or not he wanted to weep or die from the sheer amounts of joy he was currently experiencing. You see, he kind of had a massive crush on Dean. Something on the level of writing in your diary like a ten-year-old girl, drawing hearts with Dean's name in the center, kind of crush and shit, he was staring again. Cas quickly averted his eyes, only to flit them back to the bowlegged man ten seconds later.

It wasn't his fault Dean was so damn attractive! Maybe it was his toned muscles straining against the white t-shirt he wore, or the way his denim jeans hugged the swell of his incredible ass, but Cas told himself he wasn't that incredibly shallow. He was a man of substance, damnit! Sure those features certainly got him all hot and bothered, however, what truly did it for him was that mischievous glint in Dean's peridot-green eyes. It was as if he knew more than he let on, like he was holding back, letting everyone think that he much less intelligent than he really was. Cas thought it was stupid that he played along with it all, keeping up with the charade and nonchalant attitude. Was he the only one who noticed that it was all just a well-cemented façade? Cas sighed, probably, people were idiots. He smiled upon realizing his personal accomplishment, mentally patting himself on the back for being so clever. To think, boring ol' textbook toting, four-eyes, awkward as fuck, Castiel Novak, cracked the enigma that is Dean Winchester without ever speaking a single word to the guy. If that is not an accomplishment for the record books, then nothing is.

Amidst his reverie, Castiel hadn't noticed that Dean had finally moved away from where he previously stood in the arch of the doorway and was currently moving through the crowd towards him. He greeted a few people along the way, clapping his hand on the shoulders of his friends, smiling kindly at the girls who all but threw themselves at him. He felt at home and in his element. He loved being in the center of attention, yet Dean didn't dwell amongst his friends for long. He zeroed in on his target, casually swaggering up to Castiel, and leaning on the wall beside him. "Not for nothin', man," Dean started, grinning broadly, his pearly whites showing through outstretched pink lips, "but the last time someone looked at me like that, I got laid," he finished, a matter-o-factly.

It took a minute for the shock to wear off. Okay, more like five and eventually Cas came to after melting into a puddle of nothingness. He eyed Dean wearily through his glasses, like he was a mirage that would soon evaporate out of thin air. He nodded at him, acknowledging Dean's words while he wracked his inebriated brain for even a partially coherent answer. "Is that so," Cas started, his words slurring just slightly, "interesting."

Dean laughed and it was like the most glorious sounding music to Cas' ears. Still grinning the other man agreed, "Yeah, one hundred percent, God's honest truth."

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I do not sleep with people I do not know."

Dean's smile faltered. He thought Cas was a done deal. If anything, the way he was pretty much staring at him kind of screamed "I WANT TO FUCK YOU SILLY!" Still, Dean soldiered on, turning the charm on full-blast, "Ah, you may not know me, but I know you."

Cas quirked an eyebrow, trying to keep the neutral expression he wore from slipping off his face. On the inside he was screaming with delight. DEAN KNEW ABOUT HIM? He had to be bullshitting. "K-know me?" Cas managed to stutter out, "What do you mean?"

"Oh this and that..." Dean conceded, clearly trying to make Cas squirm. By the look on the Castiel's face, he had definitely succeeded.

"This and that?"

"Yeah," Dean answered noncommittally with a shrug of his shoulders, "I know you work at the bookstore. I know you have a particular fondness for cardigans. I know you love to listen to Lana Del Rey. And," he paused for affect, "I know you don't like black olives, however, you love the pasta salad from Dexter's."

Cas stared at Dean, completely dumbfounded. It was like- "Hey wait," he started, slowly becoming more and more sober, "are you stalking me or something?"

"No, I'm just observant..." Castiel pulled a face. This guy had to be kidding.

"Alright," the dark haired boy began, "say I believe you, hypothetically, still does not mean that I am going to sleep with you." He nodded quickly, turning smartly on his heel, and walking away. Dean stood, rooted to the spot and gaping after the other man in complete astonishment. That never happened before.

As he continued towards the door, Cas told himself it was for the better. He did not have time to get caught up with the inevitable shit-blizzard that was Dean Winchester. He sighed, yes definitely better. Still, Castiel couldn't help but wish that Dean would come chasing after him.

Cas pushed open the heavy oak door that led to the front porch, the cold December air freezing his lungs as he inhaled. He moved quickly, trying to avoid the smokers and the noxious clouds that surrounded them in favor of not smelling like a total ashtray. When he was finally able to dodge the human smokestacks and get down the stairs, Cas realized he had left his jacket back inside. He immediately stopped in his track and turned to look at this house in contemplation. The dark-hair boy stood for a minute and weighed his options, in the end, deciding to retrieve his coat.

Back inside, Castiel made a b-line for the small sitting room that doubled as the "coat room". Luckily, on his way to the back of the house, he managed to weave through the crowd without running into Dean again. In fact, within the ten minutes it had taken Cas to nearly vacate the premises, Dean had altogether disappeared. His stomach couldn't help but twinge with an ounce of disappointment. Perhaps it was for the better though. A second hit of Dean Winchester in one evening would probably result in Cas' imminent demise. Or you know, mind-blowing sex. Yeah, Cas definitely would not be able to deny the other man twice. Un-virtuous thoughts swam into his head and Castiel had to suppress a groan. He shook his head as if to clear the images, "No, that ship has sailed," Cas mumbled to himself, proceeding to open the door to the coatroom. The door creaked open revealing pile upon piles of almost every jacket imaginable.

A few minutes later, Cas managed to locate his tan trench-coat and threw it on, shoving his hands through the well worn sleeves and buttoning it up to his neck. He pushed through the crowd for the last time, noticing that it had significantly thinned out. Glancing at his watch Cas groaned, cursing the little, green digital numbers that were currently indicating that it was half past one in the morning. His night was by no means over, no, he still had a long trek back home.

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It was not until nearly three that Cas finally slid his key into the lock in his apartment door. Saying he was exhausted was an egregious understatement. Shuffling his way into the small hallway, Cas shut and locked the door behind him, throwing the keys into a small dish. He sighed as he toed off his black oxfords, flexing his tired feet in relief. "Never again," he told himself as he lethargically plodded toward his bedroom in the back of the apartment, "Not even if Stephan Hawking himself threw a kegger." Without bothering to turn on the light, Castiel stripped down to his boxer-briefs and practically fell into bed. Within a matter of seconds, he was fast asleep and dreaming about bright, gemstone-green eyes.


End file.
